Happy Mothers' Day, Wanderers. Today's blog post is an essay I wrote three years ago for one of my writing classes. It's called "Love," and it's about my mother. This one's for you, Momma. I love you. --Erin It’s in the way my mother does laundry. When we are home, and, more often, when we… Continue reading Love. (For my mom)
Christmas Eve. What a strange day to leave behind a home. My father is driving as I'm writing this. The sky is dark with clouds, and it's raining, cold and dreary. It occurs to me that this is probably the last time I will make this drive through all these trees, past all these corn fields… Continue reading The strange and winding road.
Eve, the first woman. A set of curves and sighs, created lovingly of tender flesh. She was created as an answer, but after the fall she crumbled into an infinity of questions that every single one of her daughters would inherit. A wild-hearted paradox, who always sees herself as something more or something less. Woman.… Continue reading Women under grace.